


Roulette

by gloria_scott



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8388787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_scott/pseuds/gloria_scott
Summary: Alana muses on her and Margot's son at four years old.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allekha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/gifts).



Alana suspected that the reports of Hannibal's death had been greatly exaggerated. She would not, at any rate, believe that the monster was dead until a body was produced and a positive ID made. Even then she might not believe it. She knew better than most that his sleight-of-hand was unparalleled in  both this world and probably the next. If anyone could cheat the Grim Reaper of his prize, it would be Hannibal.

Still, after a year had passed with no cold steal dissecting her jugular, her hyper-vigilance against the ghost of Hannibal Lecter lessened to a more or less constant background hum. These days she was more concerned with a threat much closer to home.

She hated that she thought of her son that way - as a potential threat. On most days, Malcolm was a normal, sweet, and caring child. On others, she was reminded that he was also Mason's son. 

Perhaps she was just paranoid. After all, pretty much every three-year-old goes through a phase where they're a little sociopath. But Malcolm's boundary-testing always seemed geared towards inflicting maximum damage. He would try to climb the gate to get into the kitchen specifically to find the _sharps_ , or rummage through the outside toy box on rainy days specifically to find the hard baseball he wasn't allowed to throw in the house, or locking himself in the bathroom so he could climb up the sink to get at the painkillers in the medicine cabinet. 

Now at four, his wiliness had grown commensurate with his linguistic skills. Alana saw a burgeoning little manipulator in him, and it wasn't at all clear to her that Margot always saw it, too.

Last night, they had been lounging in bed after finally getting Malcolm to sleep, and Margot was giving Alana an update on his riding lessons.

"Do you ever worry about him?" Alana asked. She hadn't meant to bring the matter up just then, but fear had been weighing her down more and more, and she could no longer carry it alone. 

"Riding has inherent risks, sure. I've hired top notch instructors so I'm not too worried. They won't let him ride a mount above his skill level, no matter how much he begs or cajoles."

"No, that's not what I meant," Alana said, sitting up.

Margot's gentle smile faded. "I was afraid of that. What did he do this time?"

"Nothing. I mean, it's not just one thing," Alana said. She could feel herself stepping back emotionally and entering the cooler halls of her academic training. "I'm concerned more about patterns of behavior. There is a body of evidence that psychopathy has a genetic component."

"I'm sure there is, and I'm also sure there's more to it than that. I'm a Verger, too, and I turned out okay." Margot's lips twisted slightly in a rueful half-smile. "In spite of everything."

Margot really was a marvel. After all the humiliation and abuse she had faced, the depth of her kindness and resilience was stunning. Margot had beat the odds, while her brother who'd had everything going for him turned out the way he did. And that was the crux of Alana's worry. Of course, they'd had to do what they did to secure Margot's inheritance, even though using Verger sperm was playing genetic Russian roulette. The outcome of that gamble was still very much in question.

Margot twisted around to look at Alana.

"Didn't I?" Her tone spoke of uncertainty in the face of the heavy silence between them.

"Of course!" Alana was quick to reassure her with words, but her gaze remained downcast. "I didn't mean to imply..."

Margot moved a hand to Alana's chin, tilting her head up to look her in the eyes.

"He has parents who love him, and who will support him and guide him towards the light. If we do that, I don't think we have to worry about him turning out like my brother." 

Alana responded by placing a slow and gentle kiss on Margot's lips. She settled back against Margot's shoulder, content for the moment to lean upon her wife's steady optimism.

But now as she sat alone with their son in his play room, colorful toys scattered around them, her doubts resurfaced. Today he had gravitated to the veterinarian play set with its oversized plastic instruments and black and white stuffed cat. Diligently, he used the blunt scissors to conduct an extensive surgery upon the poor cat. She watched him with growing concern as he pretended to amputate each of its legs, then its snout, and finally the head, all the while chatting happily about the various ailments he was curing.

All children play like this, she thought to herself. It's not like he'd do anything that horrible to an actual animal. 

Almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Malcolm stopped what he was doing and peered up at her with eyes hard as marbles under a tousle of dark hair.

"Mommy?" he said, putting on his best impression of a placating four year old. "Can I have a _real_ kitty?"

Alana forced a smile.

"Why don't we start with a goldfish first, and see how that goes?"

Malcolm held her gaze steadily for a few moments. The look of dull smugness on his face had Mason written all over it. Alana kept her smile fixed, only letting it drop when he had turned back to his play.

The next few years were certainly going to be interesting.


End file.
